


All is calm, all is bright

by Joracwyn



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: And A Touch Of Angst, Astronomy, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, F/M, but not too much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 11:06:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17140640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joracwyn/pseuds/Joracwyn
Summary: It wasn't a normal Christmas Eve: offworld, on a desert planet, babysitting telescopes. But the stargazing made it all worthwhile.





	All is calm, all is bright

Sam pushed her cap back and scrubbed her hand through her sweaty hair, hoping to release some of the stress that was winding her nerves tight. Her laptop rested on the top of a pile of cases containing light-meters, spare lenses, batteries and all the other detritus that was considered essential for scientific offworld missions. She frowned at the program code which filled the screen, although she had to squint against the surrounding glare. The sun was still high in the sky. Its unrelenting light reflected off the sand around her, the metal body of the FRED, even the skin of her own too-pale hands. But if she put on her shades, she wouldn't be able to see the figures on her monitor. All the conditions had been met for a truly massive headache. She could feel it building behind her eyes.

Around her, the rippled sand sloped away from where she knelt, into hollows and low hills that stretched unending to the horizon. Close by, surrounded by the scattered stones of a long-forgotten temple, stood the stargate and DHD, the sole indications that there had ever been a civilisation here. At the foot of the dune on which Sam was setting up the mobile observatory, four tents had been erected, a semicircular windbreak protecting the rest of SG-1 as they pottered aimlessly around, providing back-up that no-one needed on this lifeless world.

It wasn't the Christmas Eve she'd been expecting. Back in Colorado Springs they were waiting on the first snowfall, the air crisp and almost painful to breathe. The streets would be busy, families getting together for the holidays, and there was light and music everywhere she went.

It was certainly light here - for now - but it was very, very quiet.

Sam heard the crunch of sand under heavy boots, recognised the unhurried footsteps, but didn't look up. She was on the clock with her task and she trusted that the man climbing the slope to join her wasn't going to reprimand her for a breach of protocol. She could feel his eyes on her, but he didn't speak immediately.

“Everything OK, Carter?” Colonel O’Neill eventually asked.

Vaguely, she wondered what he had been looking at or thinking all that time. “Fine, sir”, she replied.

There was no answer from her commanding officer but she could almost hear him raise his eyebrows. He wasn't fooled by her automatic answer, hadn't been since the first month they'd worked together.

She sighed, succumbing to the inevitable explanation. “I’m having some trouble calibrating this telescope. It's programmed to track the movements of stars at the same speed as the rotation of Earth, but this planet's rotation is slightly shorter and if I don't correct it…”

“Then it will end up recording a lot of data on empty sky,” he finished for her.

She paused for a moment in surprise, firstly, that he had been listening and secondly, that he had understood what she'd said. Then she reminded herself that it wasn't all that complicated and, anyway, the colonel knew telescopes. She allowed her attention to wander away from the equipment just long enough to check her watch. “But I don't have a lot of time left until sunset.”

The colonel checked his own watch. “Two and a half hours, by your calculation. Right, Carter?”

Sam raised her eyebrows, even as she continued to enter data sporadically into the code scrolling across the screen.

The colonel answered as if he understood her unspoken comment. “I do listen to your briefings, Carter.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied promptly.

“Do you need any help?”

This time she did look away from the equipment, lifting her eyes to the colonel's, folding her lips to suppress the smile that was forcing its way into her face. They both knew that he would be more of a hindrance than a help and that the math and the programming were far beyond his capabilities or understanding, but she felt absurdly grateful that he had even asked.

“Thank you, sir, but… I'll manage.”

The colonel responded with a smile of his own. For a moment, nothing existed for Sam except the man standing next to her, his hands resting lightly on his weapon, his gaze resting on her with a weight his smile belied.

“I'll leave you to it, then, Major.”

He skidded down the loose sand towards the tents, where Daniel was setting up a small stove, and Teal'c was checking their supplies. Sam watched the colonel's retreating form for a few seconds. Then she shook herself.

“Eyes front, Major,” she muttered as she returned to her calibration.

 

************

 

A tap on her shoulder made her jump. She looked around, startled. A battered cup filled her vision, steam rising from its mouth.

“Thought you might need this,” Daniel’s voice said.

Sam sat back on her heels and took the proffered cup.

“Thanks, Daniel.” She blew across the top of the black liquid, the sharp smell of his favourite dark roast coffee filling her nose.

“How’s it going?”

Sam sighed. “It’s...getting there. I think.” She took a sip of coffee while gesturing towards the battery of FRED-mounted equipment with her free hand. “Two down, two to go.”

“Can I do anything?”

“No. Thanks.” She raised the cup to him. “This was just what I needed, though.”

Daniel smiled and turned, wrinkling his nose a little to settle his glasses, but Sam called him back.

“How are you all doing?”

Daniel shrugged. “Camp’s all set, Jack's checked in with the SGC and checked the perimeter about a dozen times but now he's getting bored…”

“God, I’m sorry.” She was breaking one of the unspoken rules of SG-1: do not let Colonel O'Neill get bored.

Daniel waved away her apology, unconcerned. “No problem. At least this time it’s not me he’s babysitting.” Sam raised her eyebrows at the ‘babysitting’, but Daniel carried on, “He won’t yell at _you_.”

Sam ducked her head, embarrassed, as Daniel returned to the camp. She was all too aware of the O’Neill favouritism when it came to situations like this. If it were Daniel poring over rocks or books, the colonel would be badgering him with, ‘Are we done yet?’ intermittently but with increasing frequency. Sam he mostly left alone to do her thing, keeping the snarking—if there was any—to himself.

 

************

 

Teal'c, as usual, didn't interrupt her. He waited patiently, his hands clasped behind his back, until she was ready to acknowledge him. As she was engrossed in checking the alignment of the lenses, she wasn't sure how long he'd been standing there before she raised her head and saw his solid form silhouetted against the darkening sky.

“Teal'c! Hey.”

“I came to find out if you were in need of any assistance, Major Carter.”

“Oh, Teal'c…” She trailed off, not sure how to put any of it into words: her wish that _someone_ could have helped her set all this up; her inability to explain it to anyone in time; that she didn’t blame any of them for not being able to help.

Teal’c, as usual, did not need her to say it. He bowed. “Then I will leave you so you may finish your task.”

“What are the others doing now?”

“Colonel O’Neill and Daniel Jackson are playing Jackals and Hounds. O’Neill suggested a game of chess, but Daniel Jackson felt his chances of winning would be considerably improved if they played a game with which O’Neill was less familiar.”

“Good thinking,” Sam grinned. Teal’c bowed again and strode away. Sam checked her watch. Just half an hour before sunset.

 

************

 

Daylight had almost completely faded by the time the colonel climbed up to her again. She'd had to turn on a head torch so that she could run a systems check one last time.

“Nearly showtime, Carter. Grub’s up.”

She smiled her thanks, not entirely sure he’d be able to see it from behind the blinding torch light, and then looked down at her watch.

“I just want to…”

“Ah!” His sharp exclamation made her look up again.” You’ve been over these telescopes about half a dozen times. I think you’ve got it, Major.”

“But…” She looked longingly back at the laptop, running through the checklist of variables she'd been carrying in her head.

“Carter… ” he warned.

“There’s just so many things that need to be adjusted, sir. This equipment was really not intended to be portable.” She'd been trying for an apologetic tone, but to her ears it came out a little whiny. Maybe she did need to stop and eat something.

“You mean, when they designed these telescopes, they didn't think that they'd be taken to another planet to record images of a star that's not visible from Earth?” He sighed theatrically. “No one thinks outside the box these days.”

Sam tried to smother a giggle. “No, they don't, sir.”

He reached out a hand to haul her to her feet. Her head whirled at the sudden change in altitude and she reflexively gripped his fingers tighter. They were warm and steady in hers. She reached up to flick off the torch and blinked at the thick darkness around her.

The colonel tugged on her hand gently before releasing it. “Come on, Carter, food’s getting cold.”

 

************

 

A dozen candles formed a rough circle around the camp, helping the small stove push the darkness away. Teal'c was lighting the last wick as the two Air Force officers stepped into the pool of flickering yellow.

Sam stretched, working the kinks out of her spine, and then slumped into an empty chair. Daniel handed her a bowl of unappealing brown mush before sitting across from her and digging into his own meal.

“I bet this wasn't what you thought you'd be eating on Christmas Eve,” she said.

Teal'c peered into his own bowl. “Is there a problem with your meal, Major Carter?”

“No more than usual, Teal'c. It's just… not very festive.”

He tilted his head, and then carefully placed his bowl on the sand. “I believe I have something that will supply the festivity which our meals lack,” he said, pulling from his pack a bundle of fabric which glowed scarlet in the candlelight. Crossing to where Sam sat, he removed her ball cap, replacing it with something fuzzy and warm. The soft white bobble at the end of the tapering hat bounced against her cheek.

Sam grinned as she caught Teal'c's eye; the childish headgear banishing every gloomy thought from her mind as if by Santa's own magic. “This is a perfect. Thanks, Teal'c.”

He bowed, and pulled a similar hat over his own smooth head.

The colonel smirked. “That's a good look, guys.” His amusement faded when Teal'c moved to his chair, holding out a third hat.

“Hey, _I_ wasn't complaining about the lack of Christmas cheer,” he began to argue, but he trailed off under Teal'c's steady gaze. He snatched the hat from Teal'c's hand and put it on. “Fine,” he grumbled, succumbing to the inevitable.

“Don't I get one?” Daniel's voice sounded plaintive.

Teal'c turned to him, gesturing to the hat on his own head. “I am afraid that I could only procure three in this design, Daniel Jackson. However, I was informed that this was a suitable alternative.”

He pulled one last hat from his pack. It was green instead of red, with red trimmings instead of white, and had two little pointy ears attached to the brim.

Sam snorted into her MRE.

“Yeah, Daniel,” Colonel O'Neill's voice was bursting with suppressed humour, “That's just the right hat for a Christmas Space Monkey.”

“These aren't monkey ears, Jack.”

“OK, a Christmas Space Elf, then. Does that make you Santa's little helper?”

Daniel adjusted the hat so the ears were correctly positioned, shooting the colonel a quelling look from under the red fuzz. Or, at least, as quelling as he could manage under the circumstances. “I'll help Sam. She's the only one who's doing anything useful, anyway.”

The colonel opened his mouth to retort but Sam jumped in quickly. Christmas Eve was not the time for fighting between teammates, no matter how constantly they might bicker every other day of the year.

“I’m really sorry I've dragged you guys out with this. I’m sure you all had better things to do on Christmas Eve than babysit me while I babysit some telescopes.” 

“Nope.”

“Ah, actually, I didn’t.”

“I had no other plans.”

There was a moment of silence. Then Daniel broke it.

“Does anyone else think that's kind of pathetic?”

The question seemed mostly rhetorical, so Sam didn't bother answering. She ate the last few  mouthfuls of her now-lukewarm meal and let her thoughts wander away to the telescopes behind her. It must nearly be time to turn them on.

Reaching down, she placed her empty bowl on the sand. Then her eyes fell on the colonel and she froze in an awkward half-stoop, unsure why he was staring so hard at her. She sat up, self-consciously wiping a hand over her mouth and nose, checking for smeared food. There was none. So why was he looking at her like that?

“Carter, did _you_ have plans?” There was a challenge in the colonel's tone. He was daring her to say yes. But underneath the sharp edge of his question there was something soft and vulnerable. She knew he wanted her to say no.

“Um...” She did have plans, but they involved a backlog of reports from Groom Lake, a quart of chocolate ice cream and a bottle of Christmas spiced vodka. And she didn't really want to admit it. She already got enough ribbing about being a workaholic.

Unfortunately, Daniel's curiosity had been whetted, and he took a wild metaphorical stab at a conclusion that was nowhere near the truth. “So, Sam, what's his name?”

For a fleeting moment she considered telling an outright lie: a spicy story that would burn Daniel's wagging tongue and teach him to curb his appetite for gossip.

Then she caught sight of the colonel. His face was turned away from her and he was rubbing the back of his neck in the way she knew meant that he was deeply uncomfortable. So she decided to tell the truth.

“Ah… Ben and Jerry's?”

Colonel O'Neill's head snapped up, his eyes locking onto hers across the fire. Even in the semi-darkness she could see the relief that made his face go slack before the habitual smirk reestablished itself. Then he slapped his hands on his knees and stood.

“Seeing as we've all finished dinner, maybe it's time for a little something for dessert?” The colonel glanced at Sam, and she could have sworn she saw him wink. “Sorry, Carter, no ice cream.”

With a flourish, he produced a thermos flask and gestured for his companions’ mugs.

Sam drained the last of the water from hers and held it aloft. Colonel O'Neill steadied it, his fingertips cradling the base gently. His thumb brushed the side of her hand, the warmth of his skin in contrast to the cool drops that clung to her lip. He poured a generous serving of pale liquid into the mug and handed it back.

Wrapping her hands around the cold metal, she took a small sip. The liquid was smooth, a fiery afterburn lingering on her tongue and in her throat.

“Eggnog, sir?”

“Secret family recipe.” His smile was mischievous and infectious; her own cheeks tightened as she fought her answering grin,

“You brought alcohol offworld, sir?”

The colonel sniffed at the mouth of the thermos. “I’d hardly call this alcoholic, Carter.” He waved his hand towards Teal’c.

“Come on, big guy.”

“I do not consume alcohol, O’Neill.”

The colonel’s gestures became impatient. “Like I told Carter, the alcohol’s barely there. Hey, you could just pretend you’re drinking it. It’s the spirit of the thing, Teal’c.”

Teal’c handed his mug over, his expression flat. Daniel, by contrast, almost threw his to the colonel, who fixed him with a warning look as he filled it.

“You’d better watch out, though, Space Elf. You get drunk on rum raisin ice cream.”

“I do not.”

“Do too.”

“Do not!”

“Do too.”

“OK, just for that, Jack, you’re not getting any of these.” Daniel tore open a large, crinkly bag he’d had concealed, and a rich, spicy, chocolate smell filled the air.

Sam leaned forward, her mouth watering. “Lebkuchen?”

“Yup.”

Colonel O’Neill grabbed the bag from Daniel. “Yeah, I like these.”

Daniel took a swig of his eggnog. “You would. Cake in cookie form.”

The colonel passed the bag to Sam and she took two before handing it on to Teal’c, who peered at the cookies. “I have not tried this form of confectionary before.” The bobble on his hat swung forward and he flicked it back over his head before taking a little heart and holding it to his nose.

“They’re delicious, Teal’c,” Sam encouraged. “Try it.”

Teal’c took an experimental nibble, frowning. The frown melted away as he chewed. Then he put the rest of the cookie into his mouth in one bite and reached into the bag for another.

“Hey, I’ll have another one too,” the colonel protested, reaching for the bag, but Teal’c snatched it away, glaring at him. Sam caught Daniel’s eye and giggled.

As she munched her second cookie, watching the colonel grapple with Teal’c for the lebkuchen and Daniel help himself to another mug of eggnog, she thought how sweet it was that they'd all put so much thought into making this boring, badly-timed mission fun and festive. The headache that had been throbbing behind her eyes had completely faded.

“Thanks, guys.” At her soft voice, all three men stilled and turned to her. Teal’c bowed.

The colonel grinned, using the momentary distraction to wrest the bag from Teal’c’s grip. He picked up the flask of eggnog. “Now come on, a little more of this and Daniel might sing ‘Away in a Manger’.”

“Wouldn't want to miss that, sir. But it’s almost showtime.”

The rest of her team scrambled back to their seats, angling them towards the direction she indicated. Sam checked her watch and then began to scan the black horizon for the reason they were on this lonely desert planet on Christmas Eve in the first place. She could hear Daniel to her left, lecturing Teal’c on lebkuchen, tracing its etymology and the history of honey cake back to Ancient Egypt. On her right, the colonel had relapsed into silence.

Very slowly, a tiny ball of coruscating light inched into view. It shimmered blue and pink and lilac overlaying a bright, diamond white. It was so small that Sam could hide it from view with the tip of one finger, but still it was larger and brighter than all the stars around it. Sam held her breath in wonder. It was incredible.

“So, tell me again, Carter,” the colonel asked, “What are we looking at?”

Sam spoke in a near-whisper, feeling more reverent under the alien heavens than she had ever done in an Earth church, “That, sir, is a supernova.”

“Wow,” Daniel breathed. “That’s not something you get to see every day.”

“It is indeed a remarkable phenomenon.” Even Teal’c sounded impressed.

“It's not going to form a black hole, is it?” There was a nervous edge to the colonel’s voice. Sam glanced over to see him staring towards the stargate. He was probably mentally calculating how long it would take to high-tail it back to Earth; after they lost SG-10 on P3W-451 everyone at the SGC had become extremely fearful of black holes.

“Not before we’re out of here, sir. But really, we don't know what it'll do, and that's why it’s so important for us to record it. It's about six light years from here, so if it did become a black hole, we'd be able to evacuate. God, it’s just amazing. Being able to view it this close…”

She didn’t bother finishing her sentence, instead giving herself up to gazing, awestruck, at the astronomical light-show. She could hear the guys’ voices, but she didn’t listen. She was too wrapt in her own moment of worship to give a damn about anything else.

Only the thought that this sacred moment should be preserved for scientific posterity roused her out of her contemplation. She stood, muttering, “I should go check that everything’s working,” before bolting from the camp.

It took a little while to double and triple check that her earlier work hadn’t been in vain and that the telescopes were focussed and tracking the supernova’s trajectory accurately. When she returned, it was to find Colonel O’Neill alone in the ring of candles. With Teal'c gone, he'd shed his Santa hat, and was now fingering the white fluff adorning the brim with a preoccupied expression.

“Where are Daniel and Teal’c?” she asked, looking around in confusion. “Was I gone that long?”

“Nah, Carter,” the colonel replied, handing her some more eggnog and waving her down into her seat. “Teal’c’s gone to kel-no-reem before his watch and I think Daniel’s already had too much of the good stuff. He was spouting some crap about the significance of stars in mythology and I told him to go to bed before I made him see stars up close.”

Sam pouted in mock petulance. “I didn’t even get to hear him sing,” she said.

Colonel O’Neill chuckled, “You’re not missing anything. He said to say ‘Happy Christmas’.”

She shook her head, smiling to herself. “I’m only going to see him in a few hours.” She looked towards her CO. “Speaking of which, sir, you can get some sleep too. I’ve got to stay up to keep an eye on the telescopes so I might as well take watch.”

“Negative, Carter, tell me what I need to do and you can get some shut eye.”

“Honestly, sir, if you don’t mind, I'm going to stay awake. This is an amazing opportunity. I'm all caught up on sleep so I'll be fine while we're here. It’s just the one night.”

“You got preemptive rest, Carter?” He seemed to be struggling to suppress his amusement, but she couldn’t see why he found it so funny.

“Yes, sir.”

He huffed, shaking his head. “You’re like a kid waiting for Santa to arrive. For all your apologising about the bad timing, I bet you were desperate to see this.”

Sam didn’t reply. She could feel her cheeks burning and it wasn’t from the heat of the flames.

There was no hiding anything from him, however. “Carter?” he prompted, his tone warning that she wasn’t going to be allowed to stay silent.

She took a sip of her drink, hoping the sensation of the rum slipping down would loosen the words from her throat. “Well, I actually volunteered for this trip, sir,” she began, the words flowing more freely as she went on. “When we realised that we’d be able to see this supernova from an uninhabited planet—and one so close—well, it was just such a good opportunity. But everyone else who can set up all the equipment has a family, and I didn't want them to have to be away over Christmas when it wasn't anything life-threatening…” Now came the reason for her discomfort: “But I'm really sorry that it meant you all got volunteered along with me. At Christmas. The timing really sucked.”

“It’s OK, Carter, I get it.” The colonel’s voice was warm with understanding and pitched low: the frequency he reserved for their private moments. She looked towards him quickly, hoping to catch his eye, but he was staring up at the supernova. She turned back towards the sky, where the dying star glittered above them.

The whole vast canopy above them was heavy with stars arranged in their unfamiliar constellations; the candles did nothing to dull their sparkle. The stove had long since gone out and the sand had given up its heat to the night. It was cold. Sam shivered and tucked her arms around herself. “It got chilly really quickly.”

She could feel the colonel’s eyes on her, adding a different kind of shiver to those already coursing her spine. “Yeah, well, that's the desert for you.” He paused. When he spoke again, his voice was tentative, like someone sidling into a crowded room, unsure of their reception. “Do you…want my jacket?”

“Are you saying I'm soft, sir?” Both humour and habit prompted her retort: habit borne of years of defending her worth to men who used her gender as a weapon against her. A habit she had yet to break, even with the man next to her.

There was a snort from the man beside her. “No one who'd seen you face off a ship full of replicators would dare to call you soft, Carter. I know you feel the cold more than me, that's all.”

“I'll be fine, sir. You'll need your own jacket, anyway. But thank you.”

“No sweat.”

Sam smiled to herself, but the smile faded when the colonel stood up and picked up his mug. Had she offended him? Her apology was ready in her mouth when he moved his chair across the intervening space, tucked it next to hers and sat down again.

“So, Carter,” he said, quietly, so close to her he was almost breathing the words into her ear, “If _I_ need my jacket, and _you also_ need my jacket…”

He threw an arm around her shoulders.

She tensed under his touch, another habitual response. She had trained herself to reject all closeness from the colonel when, really, she craved it. But, she reasoned, it was Christmas. Maybe this could be her Christmas present to herself: letting herself enjoy his touch. So as his warmth began to seep through the layers of her BDUs, she relaxed into his embrace, leaning ever so slightly closer towards him. As much as their chairs would allow, anyway.

“It's a shame the night here isn't as long as it would be on Earth,” she said, keeping her voice level and her eyes on the stars.

Although his features were in shadow, she could just see the colonel turn his head. He studied her profile intently, as if he could read the meaning of her words in the curve of her cheek or the line of her jaw. But he said nothing. Perhaps the bow of her lips wasn't eloquent enough for this situation.

She continued, “You know, because we could do with a few hours’ more data on the supernova.”

He turned away, looking back towards the sky, and she worried that maybe she'd been too opaque. Too flippant. But then his arm tightened its hold on her. “Any opportunity to stargaze is enough for me, Carter.”

He understood, then.

The world was silent around them. It was almost as if there was nothing between them and the cavernous space in which was suspended all those millions of points of light. But then the soft sound of their breathing was joined by the shushing sound of his thumb stroking the thick fabric of her jacket. In all the stillness and peace, Sam’s senses were so alert to his tiny motion he might well have been caressing her bare skin. She tingled under his hand, the sensation creeping down her arm and into her chest. It awoke the shivers he had sought to still, and she fought to keep her breathing steady and suppress the trembling his touch provoked.

Above them the bright star rose higher and higher until Sam had to rest her head back on the colonel’s arm to keep it in view.

The colonel’s voice broke into the peace. “What's so special about supernovas, then, Carter? Why are we here instead of at home drinking proper alcohol and watching bad Hallmark movies?”

“Technically, sir, the plural of supernova is supernovae,” Sam gently goaded him, her most pedantic manner in place.

“Carter…” he growled out, and she grinned. He'd been right on cue. It was nice to know she wasn't losing her touch.

Dropping the lecturer's tone, she continued, “Supernovae are relatively rare and few have been observed on a time when we've had the equipment to really understand them. We don’t really know much about what triggers them and what their effects are. There are models, but we just don’t have the data to prove any hypothesis. It's widely believe that supernovae are the site for the r-process which produces elements heavier than nitrogen, or, in other words, they’re the source of the building blocks of the universe. And then the expanding material from the decayed star travels outward, mixing and enriching other matter in molecular clouds that will one day actually form new stars. In fact, the kinetic energy released by a supernova can actually trigger that process… We think that our own solar system was formed by a supernova over four billion years ago.”

Pausing for breath, Sam became aware that she’d been rambling on completely unchecked. She wondered whether the colonel had followed anything she’d said and bit her lip, waited for his usual request for the ‘bottom line’.

“So,” he said finally, “What you're saying is that we're sitting here watching the universe give itself a Christmas present? Carter, that's kind of cool.”

Sam broke into a wide smile. It was endearing when he was baffled by the science she tried to teach him, but she truly loved it when he understood her. “It is, isn't it?”

Turning her head, she realised that the colonel was close. Very close. She could feel his breath brush across her the tip of her nose. Her smile faded from her face as the effort of resisting the urge to lean into him increased. But really, it would be so easy to lift her head a tiny bit, and press a kiss just there—

She licked her lips. His eyes flicked to her mouth and he tightened his embrace, ready to pull her in towards him.

But then her better judgement roused itself out of its stupor and gave her a swift kick. She blinked and turned away, closing her eyes, warding off the combined spell of the star-bright sky and the dark eyes of the man beside her. His arm relaxed its hold, although she was immensely grateful that he did not pull away.

Trying for a relaxed tone completely at odds with her decidedly ruffled emotions, she said, “Still, I'm sorry that I made you miss Christmas.”

“Who said anything about missing anything?” The colonel's voice was light to match hers, but there was a huskiness underneath, as if his own emotions were crowding his throat. “You just wait and see what gift I brought Daniel.”

“It's a rock, isn't it, sir?”

“If I told you, Carter, I'd have to kill you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Seems wrong to have to call me ‘sir’ at Christmas, Carter.”

She raised an eyebrow at this, although he couldn't see it. “Fine, _O'Neill_.”

He spluttered, “That's no better!”

She tilted her head towards him, making the end of her hat swing over her eyes. She brushed it away. “Well, if you're going to keep on calling me Carter…” she explained.

“Alright.” She waited. “ _Sam_.”

She reveled in the sound of her name on his tongue. It caressed her soul like his thumb had caressed her shoulder.

“Thanks. _Jack_.”

He raised his battered mug, and she lifted hers.

“Here's to Christmas supernovae, Sam.”

The rims of the cups met in a way she hadn't allowed their own lips. A kiss by proxy.

“Merry Christmas, Jack.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas, one and all!


End file.
